Back to 1890s
by Skaremark
Summary: When Ellanor wakes up she finds her self thrown back to the 1890's and finds the most peculiar friends.
1. Chapter 1

***To understand this novel completely, I ask you to read ****_A study in scarlet _****by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle beforehand***

**1.**

The kick in her midsection woke her abruptly. She gasped for air as a cane came wining threw the air, hitting her over her back. She turned her head to see her attacker, only to get hit in the face with a fist.

Around her she could hear people talking, gasping and some were even cheering the attacker on. What was going on? She tried to stand up, only to get pushed back onto the ground by hands belonging to unidentified on cheerers.

She felt blood dripping from her nose and mouth.  
"I'm going to die" she thought as another kick hit her ribs making them crack under the pressure.

Just then two men came walking by, one of the men stopped in horror at scene that was taking place in front of them. The other man, however, kept on walking not taking any note from the, soon to be, murder just a couple of meters away. His black foot long jacket swept over the cobbled stone street as he walked pass. The man who stopped tried to push the other persons aside to get to the girl. He was not going to stand this violent act.

The man who was beating her had stopped for a moment to catch his breath. But when he saw her rescuer he went between them and pushed him in the chest.

"And what do you think you're doing?" He asked with a harsh voice.

"Stopping you from becoming a murderer" the man answered bravely, trying to get passed to the injured woman.

But the attacking man would not hear such thing.

"She's working for me! I own her. Last night she took off, and this is the third time in a fortnight!"

"Maybe if you would treat her more nicely, she wouldn't run off." the other man spat.

He realised pretty quick that he wouldn't get to this man so he started to look for his friend. He saw him standing a few meters away from them, looking the other way.

"Holmes!" He cried and walked towards his companion. "Holmes, you got to do something. He's going to kill her."

The man named Holmes sighed.

"I can't see why that is any of my concern, we have someplace we need to be. Come along."

But when he noticed that his friend didn't follow he stopped and sighed again.

"You heartless man." Holmes friend spat out. "A woman is going to die, and you of all can save her, and you won't?"

Holmes sighed again. "Watson I am not going to have this argument with you."

"Then help her."

Holmes looked at her over the crowd. She had stopped moving. Blood in a pool around her. He exhaled quickly through his nose and pushed his way through the crowd and laid a hand on the attackers cane just in time to stop it hitting her senseless.

Holmes could see her faint breathing. Her eyes were swelling up and bruises became more visible every second through her blond hair. Watson ran towards, and kneeled beside her.

"I think she has gotten the point." Holmes said with a dry voice.

The man looked with shocked eyes on him.

"Yes, Mr Holmes, Sir." he said, lowering his cane.

"She's barley breathing." Watson said as he looked up at Holmes. "We need her to get to our apartment as soon as possible if we are going to save her."

"We?" Holmes asked surprisingly.

"I can do it Mr. 'Olmes" said a man with dirty clothes and a mouth full of missing teeth. He lifted her up in his arms and the three of them started to walk towards Holmes and Watsons quarters.

"Lay her on the sofa." Watson said and started to move away newspapers and tobacco leafs.

"No, she can have my bed." Holmes said.

Watson looked surprised at him waiting for an explanation that would never come. The man who had carried her started to walk towards Holmes bedroom and as he lay her down she opened her swollen and bruised eyes. They were blue, almost turquoise.

"Where am I." she whispered almost non audible.

"You're safe now, my dear." Watson laid a hand on hers. "I will take care of you, I am a doctor."


	2. Chapter 2

When she opened her eyes she didn't know where she was or how long she's been asleep. The last thing she could remember was falling backwards and hitting water - the fountain!?

She sat up very quickly, making her head spin and ribs hurt; feeling sick. She was in a room she didn't recognize, it was small but tidy. The door leading out of the room was almost shut but she could see light creeping in under it. Voices could be heard from the other room, low, but definitely belonging to men.

When she tried to stand the bed made a creaking noise and the voices outside fell silent. A few seconds later the door opened and a man came in.

"Oh it's good to see you up and about again" he said with a smile. "I lay your clothes on the chair, if you need any help I'd be happy to call for Mrs. Hudson."

The woman looked down at her body when she heard the word clothes. She was dressed in a too large nightgown.

"Where am I?" she stuttered.

"At 221 B Baker Street. You're safe here" the man answered.

221 B Baker street... but that is where...

"Who are you?" she finally asked.

The man smiled.

"I'm Dr. John Watson mam."

Her jaw dropped.

"But, but. That's impossible." She blurred out.

Watson laughed.

"And why is that?"

"Well, because you've been dead for around 100 years"

He wrinkled his eyebrows.

"You are sure that you are okay?"

"Yes, except my head hurts and my ribs are trying to kill me. What year is it?"

"1890" he answered with a confused look.


	3. Chapter 3

Was she hearing that correctly? But she thought that it must be some of her friends pulling a joke. Travelling back in time to 1890, that's impossible - right? She decided to play along.

"Yea, I must have taken a load of beating." She tried to smile as the memory from the attack became clear.

"Maybe I should get dressed?"

Watson nodded.

"I'll get Mrs. Hudson."

As he left, she was all alone. Her mind started to spin and questions just spurted out of her. It all stopped when she saw the mirror.

With quite some difficulty she managed to stand up. Small steps took her closer to the mirror standing on the make-up table.

"Make-up table?"

She gasped when she saw her own reflection.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed.

What was looking back at her was not a pretty site. Her nose was swollen, probably broken. The colour around her eyes were dark blue, almost back. She saw that she had been cut by a sharp object just above her cheekbones. She also had cuts and bruises all over her arms and legs, not to mention the rest of her face.

"Damn..." she said with a low voice as she touched her cheeks. "If this is make-up, why does it hurt?"

The door opened and a woman walked in. When she saw the beaten up woman she stopped.

"Oh hello dear, I'm Mrs. Hudson. And your name is?"

"E... Ellanor."

"Nice to see you up and moving again." She said with a smile.  
She then looked at Ellanors clothes hanging on the chair.

"Shall we get you dressed?"

Ellanor was about to object, that she could manage fine by herself. But Mrs. Hudson had already started to tug at her nightgown, and when she, Ellanor, tried to lift her arm, she inhaled quickly as the pain in her ribs hit her.

"Don't be silly dear. Just stand still and I'll help you."

When she opened the door to the living room she had to squint her eyes because of the light flooding the quite large area.

Watson was quick to draw a curtain over one of them.

"Thanks." Ellanor replied and opened her eyes again.

Her clothes were simple and black, but clean.

"Did you wash them?" She looked at Mrs. Hudson.

"No the maid did that." She smiled.

Ellanor nodded faintly and looked at Watson.

"I remember it being two men?"

As Mrs. Hudson left Watson made a gesture for her to sit down in an armchair opposite him, which she did.

"Ah, yes. The other man, who was so kind to lend you his bedroom, is Sherlock Holmes."

The colour in Ellanors face faded.

_"THE Sherlock Holmes" _She thought and for a second or two she forgot about she thinking it was a joke.

"The famous detective?" she finally asked.

"So you've heard about him?" Watson asked with a smile.

"Heard about him? I've read all the stories, I know the lines, the killers, everything!" She blurred out before she realised what she had said.

And for the second time in under an hour, Watson looked bewildered at her.

"Sorry?"

"Er... nothing, I must have been thinking about someone else."

Watson wrinkled his eyebrows.

"Hmm..."

"Where is he anyway? I need to thank him. And you of course. You saved my life!" She stood and walked over to Watson and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He blushed. As she sat down again, with some difficulty, she remembered the cuts on her face. "Is this your handy work?" pointing at the cuts on her cheeks.

"Yes, I had to cut your bruises open to let the blood out and release some pressure, in worst case you could have lost your eyesight. And Holmes I have no idea what so ever where he can be. He just muttered something and he was off."

A thought had been growing in Ellanors mind, and now she had to talk to someone about it. If Watson was as nice and clever as he was in the stories, then he was a great man to talk to.

"Er... Watson. I need to come clean. I have no idea how I ended up in this part of town, what year it is before you told me. And I have no idea what I have been doing with my life since up to this point. And... I think I might need some help solving this."

Watson cleared his throat.

"First of all, please call me John. And second, I'm not sure I am the right man to talk to. What I can tell you is that by your clothes you are working as a maid."

"How very observant of you" a man said behind them.

Ellanor turned her head and looked at the man. What she saw, made her inhale very quickly threw her nose. Because there he was.

"Sherlock Holmes, at your service." He said with a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh my goodness. Sherlock Holmes." She tried to stand.

But Sherlock raised his hands.

"Please, be seated."

But you could see that he was trying to hide a faint smile.

"So what can I do for you?"

Ellanor thought very quickly.

_"Should I tell him the truth? That I travelled back in time, almost 150 years? And how will I prove it to be true? It's not like I have anything to show... wait my bag?"_

She was about to open her mouth when a hard knock could be heard on the door.

Sherlock who was standing closest to the door, opened it. But when he saw the man standing behind it, he felt like closing it again. Ellanors attacker.

He didn't introduce himself, instead he walked straight in leaving mud satins as he went.

"You told me she'd be better in a few days. It's been a few days."

He was talking to both Holmes and Watson.

It was Watson who replied.

"As her doctor I can tell you she is NOT in a fit state to be working."

He clutched is fists and you could tell that he wanted to beat the man down. He breathed in heavily and tried to calm himself.

"If you let me take care of her, I will send her back to you when she's better."

The man looked at Watson, then at Holmes and then at Ellanor. He walked up to her and stroke her cheek.

Ellanor hit his hand.

"Don't touch me." she spat out.

The man gave her a box on the ear.

Watson wasn't late to respond, but put himself between them.

"I think you better leave." He said between gritted teeth.

The man looked at him, turned at the spot and left.

Ellanor put her hand over her mouth. Who was that psychopath of a man?

Holmes looked at Watson.

"Follow him for me."

Then he looked at Ellanor.

"And you and me, we need to talk."


	5. Chapter 5

Holmes looked at her for a long time, hands pushed together, fingertips resting under his chin. Ellanor felt quite uncomfortable sitting there with her bruised face and black clothes while he studied her.

He then gave a faint sigh, stood and looked out the window, back towards the woman. His hands clasped, resting on his back.

_"Is this talking according to him?"_ Ellanor thought. But then again, if the books had told her anything it was not to interrupt Holmes when he was thinking. She had given up on the idea that this was a joke. Her friends would be here by now if that was the case, jumping out from behind the door or chair, jellying "Surprise!" And what a surprise_. "Someone beating me half to death, and it wasn't for these men, I'd be dead..."_ No this wasn't a joke. Somehow she had got back in time.

As Holmes didn't talk to her she thought about what she knew herself before this happened.

_"I was in London with a friend. Visiting. We went to Baker Street, to the museum... then Hyde park, went to the fountain at Park lane. Then... blank... woke up here..."_

"This man. James. When did you start working for him?" He still had his back towards her when he spoke.

"I don't know."

He turned around fast. Eyes piercing hers.

"You don't know, or you don't remember?" he asked sharply.

"I... I don't kn... know..."

With a sigh Holmes sat down behind his desk.

_"Either the bruises makes her expression hard to read... or she don't know..."_ he thought.

"But please, don't make me go back. I'll do anything..."

Holmes looked at her.

"There's nothing we can do. You work for him, you're his servant."

He looked away again.

"How long have I been here? How long was I out?"

"Almost a week" he answered without looking at her.

The door opened and Watson came in.

"I lost him. Hired a cab."

Holmes sighed and rose from the chair and almost threw himself on the sofa. His expression dosed off, and just as Watson, Ellanor knew that this meant he was unreachable.

"Why did you chase him, if he said there is nothing you can do?" She spoke to Watson and pointed at Holmes.

"Unless, you tried to help me..."

Holmes smirked in his absence, but in a matter of seconds it was gone.

Watson didn't answer.

"You can leave in two days."


	6. Chapter 6

Sick. Nervous. Nauseas. Angry. Afraid. Hopeless. All the feelings at once she felt as she walked up to the door and rang the bell.

The door opened by a woman in her late 20's. She had walnut brown hair and light eyes. Her thin lips cracked up with a smile when she saw Ellanor.

"Oh my God! I can't believe you're back!"

She threw herself around Ellanors neck and gave her a warm and hard hug.

"Ah..." Ellanor exclaimed as her ribs were crushed together.

The other woman released her immediately.

"Sorry, sorry! I forgot." she said nervously as she placed her hands on Ellanors shoulders. "Come on in. You must be tired. Watson said you must rest."

Ellanor had no idea who this woman was, but by the look of things this woman knew her. She was showed to a small room beside the kitchen. In the room was four beds, and in the bed closest to the door the woman showed that Ellanor should sleep.

"Rest now. Mr. Demos will be home in an hour."

"Mr... Demos?"

"James..."

The woman left the small bedroom and Ellanor sank down on her bed.

* * *

The following days Ellanor was cooking, cleaning, washing, being raped and slapped. When the fourth day came to an end she curled up on the bed and cried silently. Now she understood why she left in the first place.

A faint knock could be heard on the door.

"Ellanor, your doctor is here." It was the woman who had greeted her when she came back, and she had found out that her name was Sarah.

When Watson came through the door she flung herself around his neck. Buried her wet face where the neck and shoulder meets and began sobbing more loudly.

Watson laid his arms around her and rested his head on hers.

"There, there" he whispered in her ear. "It will be alright."

He stroke her back.

Ellanor broke free from the hug, eyes red and swollen.

"How can it? He treats me like an object. Whenever he walks in and give me the sign, I have to be on all four... which if you wonder has happened every day..."

She dried her tears.

"These bruises are new..."

She showed him her upper arms.

"How can it possibly be alright?!"

Watson sighed and drew her into his embrace again.

"I'm sorry... I'm SO sorry that I had to let you go back to this place again. But we had no choice."

He let her go again and his eyes ran up and down her body.

"How is the ribs?"

"They are fine... healing nicely." she replayed and sat down on the bed.

Watson sat down beside her. He took her hands in his. Their eyes met and Watson could see the damage that has been done. The light in her eyes that he had seen the first day when she woke up was gone. She looked worn and thin - and it had only been four days.

"I am sorry that I can't do more."

Ellanor smiled a brave smile. They sat for another few minutes and Watson gave her a quick exam. When he saw that she was doing alright, beside the tyrant as an employer, they stood and gave each other one last hug.

"Please help me..." she whispered with a pleading voice before she let him go.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

One week later the house of Mr. Demos was cleaned from top till bottom. Every living soul (except for the master himself) was working late cooking and prepping for a big night. What it was, Ellanor knew nothing about.

Mr. Demos was too busy to insult, slap or rape Ellanor during this time and she had started to gain some weight and colour. When the big night came everyone but Ellanor was going to serve the guests, she thought this was awkward but she didn't want to push this matter.

When they got back after serving them the appetizer, Sarah caught Ellanors eye and hinted her towards the sink where they often had their secret talks.

"It's them..." she said with a low voice as she handed Ellanor some glass.

She looked confused at her.

"Who?"

"Watson..."

That was all she could say because the head servant came in and gave them a stern look.

A jolt of hope rushed through her and she smiled a faint smile.

_"They are trying to help me." _she thought and with her head held higher she walked towards the stove.

* * *

One hour later Sarah came into the kitchen again and walked up to Ellanor.

"James is looking for you."

Her eyes were worried and she didn't stay beside her friend for too long.

Ellanor swallowed hard and licked her lips. Suddenly her mouth felt dry. She gave out a long sigh, brushed the dirt from her hands on the apron and walked into the dining room.

"You were looking for me Mr. Demos"

She gave Holmes and Watson a quick glance before she stopped before her master, lowering her head.

Mr Demos gave her a look from top till bottom.

"Not me, but these men." He said without taking his eyes off his servant.

Ellanor turned her head towards the men that had saved her life once, will they do it again? She just wanted to run into Watsons embrace and stay there, feeling safe.

"What can I do for you?"

She lowered her head to show them that she was below them, and ready to give them anything they asked for.

"Lift your head up." Watson said with a clear voice. "You are his servant, not ours."

The woman looked at him and gave him a quick smile.

Both Watson and Holmes looked at Mr. Demos.

"What would it take to let her leave today with us?" Holmes asked, his light eyes piercing Mr. Demos dark ones.

The question took Mr. Demos off guard. He was sipping on some tea, and it make him cough.

"Excuse me?" he asked when he got his voice back, sounding very angry.

"You heard me. We want her to leave with us tonight."

"That is out of the question."

"100 pounds" Holmes spat out before Mr. Demos had time to finish answering.

The master fell silent. That was a lot of money, even he couldn't deny that. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when nothing came out. He licked his lips and looked from Holmes to Watson, and then on Ellanor and back again. When his eyes once more rested on Holmes he had made up his mind. He stretched out his right hand.

"100 pounds."


	8. Chapter 8

Two days had past since her rescuer brought her back to Baker Street. Holmes was barely around so Ellanor had the time to get more acquaintance with Watson and Mrs. Huddson.

Her bag had been send for, because when Ellanor realised that she was free (or at least had new masters) she didn't want to stay in that God forsaken hole longer than she had needed too. Of course she was sad to leave Sarah behind, that girl had taken care of her and been the only friend in the house. But she also knew that things were looking up for her. A man by the name of Mr. Hemingsworth, a long term friend of Sarah's, had finally got the courage to ask her hand in marriage.

When they had their afternoon tea a knock in the door could be heard and Watson opened it. On the other side stood a man in his late 40's with a very odd looking bag in his hands.

"My bag!" exclaimed Ellanor and rose. She still wore her servant outfit, but she felt in desperate need of a change. The bag in itself was not very odd looking for someone who had the knowledge and history of bags up to the 21:st century. It was a quite large handbag made out of red leather. The straps were small; made for wearing around the arm and with small golden letters you could read: Michael Kors. Overall the bag looked new and hardly worn, but it was Ellanors favourite bag, and she was delighted to see it again.

Watson grabbed it and gave the man a chilling. He bowed his head and was down the stairs in a second. Watson closed the door. He carried it to Holmes's bedroom where she had been spending the nights. Sherlock was seldom around, and when he was, he was not sleeping much – he was on a case.

Ellanor found it peculiar that Holmes didn't bring Watson with him. But she also knew that Watson only wrote down the more thrilling and exciting cases, so she thought this must not be one of those cases, and frankly, it looked like Holmes didn't need the Doctor to solve this one.

"It's very kind of Mr. Holmes to lend me his bedroom" Ellanor said when Watson placed her bag on the bed. "What shall we do when he needs it back? I don't have that kind of money to rent an apartment." Well, at least that is what she thought.

Watson, who had by now gotten familiar with the woman's choice of words, didn't think much about them.

"We will think of something." He replayed.

She smiled.

"It's awfully kind of you. I'll pay you back…" "_Somehow"_

Watson left the room so Ellanor could ramble through her things. Both to her disappointment and delight she could only find new underwear.

_"__Must have dropped the top and shorts off at the hotel before visiting the museum" _She thought, and with a sigh of both relief and dissatisfaction she let her black dress fall to the floor.

* * *

Her mouth dropped when she saw it. With shaking hand she held up her purse and opened it. Inside nuzzled between receipts and photographs lay the entire sum of her holiday account; 2500 pounds. She licked her dry lips, the blood drumming in her ears and it's not until she see flickering spots in front of her eyes that she realises that she had held her breath. She exhales through her nose. Carefully she closed her purse and laid it on top of the only book she had with her on the journey, _The Complete Sherlock Holmes collection_. She smiled vaguely and sat down on the bed

_"__Finally I can get out of these rags"_ she thought.

The book finally caught her attention and she opened it with some hesitation. It was torn and well red. She knew every line, smile and gasp. She knew what was supposed to happen next, that's why she was surprised to read her name on the first page of the second case _"The sign of Four"_. She could only read her name once, but then again, this case hasn't taken place yet. This is what she red:

_Things became quite different when She stepped into ur lives. Her name was Ellanor and nothing were the same, and I found myself smiling more often than before. Holmes, on the other hand, was buried in work. He did not ask for my assistance in some cases and I did not intrude by compelling him with my presence._

That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. She was in the books she had reread more than 20 times, but somehow she didn't know how to cope with this new feeling that was growing inside her. Did Watson really care for her this much? And what will happen when he meets Mary Morstan?


	9. Chapter 9

The solution for the bed problem was to ask Mrs. Huddson for the spare bed in the attic. It was a bit damp and made squeaking noises every time Sherlock changed position. Because even though she had explained to Holmes that was happy to give his room back to him, he simply waved it off with his hand and said that he'd never heard about such thing. So Ellanor still had the tidy little room that belonged to the most famous detective of all time.

The day after she had got her bag back Sarah knocked on the door. Ellnor was very pleased to see her.

"It is so good to see you Sarah. You got my telegram? Please come in"

Sherlock was out for the day taking Watson with him, so Ellanor was alone at the apartment at 221B Baker Street.

Sarah smiled and they hugged as soon as Ellanor had closed the door.

"It is very good to see you again too Ella."

Sarah always called her by that moniker, at first Ellanor didn't listen to it. No-one she knew called her by that name. It took some time to get used to it, but now Ella was as obvious as daybreak.

"Yes, I got the telegram, I am very sorry that I did not answer, but I am here now. Shall we leave?"

Ellanor nodded, grabbed her purse and they left the apartment.

* * *

Shopping for clothes in the 1890's was not an easy task. Ellanor was used to the 21'st century shops where you go in, try it on, pay and you're done. This was much more time consuming. The first stop was the dressmaker. The man behind the counter was a young apprentice, not much older than Ellanor herself. When they walked into the shop he looked up from behind a dark plum coloured dress and studied them both with his light brown eyes.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, my friend is looking for a new dress. And we heard that you are the best in town. Where is Mr. Johnson?" Sarah replayed. Ellanor looked at her with a faint smile. If someone knew how to butter a man up it was her.

The young apprentice smiled and laid down the plum dress on the counter.

"My Master is not in for the moment. May I be at your service instead?"

"May I ask your name?" Sarah said while studying him.

"I am Mr. Johnson's son and apprentice, Benjamin." He replied and bowed his head ever so slightly.

The women looked at him, gave each other a quick glance and then nodded. Ellanor were asked to go behind a blind and get undressed so he could take her measurement. She did what she was asked to do, when a flash of horror struck her. _"My underwear… oh my… what shall I do… er…" _

Benjamin took out his measuring tape.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Well…" she stammered. "I might need some help…"

Sarah understood the hint and walked behind the blind where she saw Ellanor stand in her 21'st century underwear. Her jaw dropped and she looked up at her friend.

"What is that?" she asked quietly.

"My underwear… but I can't look like this in front of him." She whispered back.

Sarah looked at her for a couple of minutes. She then turned to the dressmaker.

"Do you also have any corsets and breeches? And do you mind taking her measurements in those?"

Benjamin looked at her in confusion.

"Yes…" he said after a moment's hesitation. "One moment Mam…" he disappeared behind the curtains and after a couple of minutes he was back, giving the undergarment to Sarah. A moment later Ellanor was ready to know her size, so Benjamin started to measure her torso, waist and hips. When he came to measure around the breasts Ellanor blushed, from her neck to her ears. Not glowing red, but more of a subtle pink.

The man wrote something down and 15 minutes later they were all done. She was shown a book where the dresses were drawn and she picked out two day dresses, two evening dresses, one tea dress, two long coats, three scarfs and some underwear. It took some time because Ellanor always thought that they were covering up too much or had a strange bulk at the bum.

"I have a question. Do you think it is possible to make this (she pointed at the top of the dress) as a jacket instead? And then make a corset in the same fabric as the bottom? I mean, so it is in two pieces…"

Benjamin looked at her with narrow eyes.

"Yes, I suppose, if you choose the right fabric. Is it for all of the dresses?"

"Well, yes… What kind of fabrics do you have?" Ellanor asked.

"Follow me mam" Benjamin said and showed her the samples, which were in a small room in the back of the shop.

"Oh, Ellanor, this one is beautiful." Sarah exclaimed and held out velvet in chocolate brown.

Ellanor looked at it with wrinkled eyebrows.

"Are you fuc… are you pulling my legs?" she dodged that bullet.

Sarah looked a bit hurt at her and let the piece of fabric slip from her fingers.

"Well, yes… it is your dress." She said quietly and took a step back, letting Ellanor engulf the colour burst in the small room that was the fabric storage.

When she came out of the dressmaker almost three hours had past. Besides ordering the new clothing she had gotten some neat second hand dresses so she could change immediately when she got back to Baker Street. After the dressmaker it was off the hat maker and after that the shoe maker.

* * *

When she got back to the apartment she lowered herself onto the sofa with a high sigh.

Both Holmes and Watson looked up at her from behind the newspapers.

"Tired?" Watson asked with a smile.

"Exhauste-e-ed. She tried to stifle a yawn but failed. "But I really need to show you one of my new dresses."

Before they could object she had disappeared into the bedroom to change. 20 minutes later she re-entered the living room where Watson and Holmes now had taken refuge to the lounge area.

"So what do you think?"

The dress she showed them was a simple dress in a flowery, light, flowing material. It was sown with different layers, at its thinnest; only one layer making it transparent. It had ¾ sleeves and little ruffles over the chest. Around the waist the dress was sown in even more tiny layers, making it hugging the female body. For that time, a very simple dress, but it fitted her perfectly. Her hair, which she had let hang loose, glistened like gold from the candles.

Both Holmes and Watson were dumbstruck, just looking at her with their mouths slightly ajar. The first one of them to break the silence was Sherlock.

"You look absolutely stunning." He said while gazing at her.


	10. Chapter 10

Ellanor sat in the sofa reading a book that Holmes had given to her. She had annoyed him with multiple questions about his work and what this and that did. He finally went to the shelf and got her a book called _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ by Oscar Wilde. It really belonged to Watson, but he did not really want to give her any of his, he might need one of them. It did not occur to him that she might not enjoy how you can see which ash came from what tobacco, or how to find poison in your back garden.

Watson sat in a lounge chair and red the newspaper, looking for an interesting case. It had been very dry with cases lately and Holmes was more cruel and hot headed than ever. Watson noticed that the neat morocco case still lay untouched on the mantelpiece, the bottle containing a clear liquid resting beside it. Even though he more than three times this last month had complained that Holmes used too much narcotics and wanted him to quit or at least use less, he found it very peculiar that he hadn't used any in almost a weeks' time. His eyes soon fell upon his companion sitting by his desk looking through a microscope. It soon became clear that something was fogging the detectives mind; he saw but did not observe which made Holmes very frustrated.

During a split second he saw Sherlock's blue eyes rest upon the lady in the sofa and then back looking through the microscope again. Every time he did this, he gave a sigh with irritation when his eyes once again rested on the magnifier.

Holmes keen eyes were trained picking up the small pieces of information during a split second. So why was it so hard picking up information about the woman sitting on the opposite side of the room? It had become clear to him that she was not telling them the truth, or at least not all of it. She made him very frustrated, mostly because he was not used to not being able to tell a person's life story by just looking at them, but there was something else that he could not quite put his finger on.

Ellanor, on the other hand, was oblivious to the struggle of frustration and fascination that was taking place in Sherlock's mind at that time. She quite enjoyed herself. The night before she had laid awake long into the early hours of the night thinking about her family and friends, wondering if she ever would see them again. She shed a tear or two thinking that she might never get back to the place that she calls home. Then a thought occurred to her; she was in the late 19's century, with the most famous detective in the world. Even though it might put her at risk, she was exactly where she wanted to be; right in the middle of a bestselling novel (with a cute main character). Therefor the following morning she decided that she would make the most of it, have so much fun and learn from the deduction master while she could. She had put on her blue dress; with a ruffled shirt and a decorative, flowery jacket, which hinted the cleavage underneath and it all was topped with a bow above the buttons.

_"__There is something that she is not telling me… that book is new, and she speaks about it as if it has been printed for years and that almost everyone has red it…"_ Sherlock thought as his eyes wandered towards the woman. His light eyes were soon fixed upon her hands. He looked at them for quite some time. The slender fingers' sensitive touch as she shifts page. Her eyes wandering from one line to another. The way she chew her lower lip when something thrilling happens. Her pupils dilate, iris shaking ever so slightly. His eyes fell lower down as he consumed her with his gaze, the warm glow from her skin. The hinted expression of her breasts, soft, voluptuous.

Sherlock stood hastily, almost knocking the chair over. Both Watson and Ellanor looked surprising at him.

"For Christ sake Woman! I cannot think when you are in the room!" he exclaimed, took his coat and with a loud bang from the door – he was gone.


End file.
